


The Time Rossi Called Her Kitten & The Time Reid Was Curious

by Lily Saint Claire (JewLo)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JewLo/pseuds/Lily%20Saint%20Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Penelope Garcia has had a string of bad dates and awful luck with men, until David Rossi comes along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reid.

It was late, and Penelope just wanted to get this over with. The date was going terribly wrong. A friend, Marlene, had set her up on a blind date with the friend’s brother and Penelope had no idea what she was getting into. Sean Docherty was an overgrown man-child with no manners, no intelligence and no respect for women. Why the hell Marlene had thought they might hit it off well was a mystery. Sean had chosen an Irish pub for their date, a sports bar that displayed soccer matches on big screen television sets and served up beer to drunken men on the prowl. She met Sean at the bar and he had been a half an hour late, then had the nerve to order for her, picking the cheapest thing on the menu and turning his attention to the Germany VS France soccer game on the TV set. She seriously considered leaving but then remembered that she owed Marlene a huge favor and decided she could sit through an hour of torment if it meant making up that favor. Sean didn’t talk much, save for commenting about the game and asking if she liked horses. She thought that was a strange question and answered that she had never been on one before, so she didn’t know. He laughed at her. Not WITH her, but AT her, and said,

“No, I mean BETTING on horses.”

“Um, no.”

“Too bad, there’s the Sunday races tomorrow and I’d take you. You’re a cute cookie.”

She had certainly never been called that before. She didn’t touch the greasy fish and chips he ordered for her and asked the barman if they had a house wine. Sean perked up,

“Are we splitting the bill?”

She sighed and assured him they were definitely going their separate ways. She sipped her wine and gave the date exactly one hour before she gathered her purse, paid the bill for both of them because Sean claimed he left his wallet at home, and went home.

###

Royce Dunning had a trust fund and a chip on his shoulder. Penelope hadn’t noticed the $400 shoes or the chip on his shoulder when she first met him because she was distracted by his looks. Royce was a very attractive man. Tall, broad shouldered, sparkling blue eyes and a year round tan. She wasn’t sure what he did for a living, if anything, but he seemed pleasant enough and she made it a point to try to get to know him better. On a brisk winter evening, she met him at La Fontaine restaurant, a posh place that served up French-Vietnamese fusion gourmet to trust fund hipsters and blogging food critics. 

In the first half an hour, Penelope knew everything there was to know about Royce Dunning. Why? Because he told her. In fact, he could not stop talking about himself. Did she know that he had been a champion lacrosse player at William & Mary College? Did she know he had inherited the heavy end of a grand fortune from his father’s publishing house? Did she have any idea how important he was to the industry? Did she know that he had once had dinner with the Sultan of Brunei? She smiled politely and said “how fascinating” when he finished a story, but before she could begin one of her own, he always belted back in with a new tale of his own importance. Just once he asked her what she did for a living and she answered,

“I’m a technical analyst for the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit.”

“Like those FBI agents in Silence Of The Lambs?” he asked.

“Sort of, yes.”

“Oh. Have I told you about the time I almost got arrested in Lucerne?”

“No.”

“Just wait, you’ll love this. My brother Preston and I were skiing in Switzerland and…”

The stories kept coming. Waiters in stiff starched uniforms brought escargot. Royce ordered wine as if she was too unsophisticated to possibly know what to order herself. In the middle of dinner, his cell phone beeped. She held her tongue as he answered it.

“Hello… bonjour Francesca! I missed you, cheri… yes, I’m still in Washington… oh, you’re in from Paris… I’d love to see you, beautiful… we can go to Ma Maison and back to my place after… of course… plenty of champagne and maybe go to Martha’s Vineyard for a weekend… love to have some time alone with you… all right, cheri… kiss kiss… a bientot.”

He hung up the phone and gulped down a glass of wine. She was silent a long moment, then said point blank,

“Did you just arrange a date with another woman while on a date with me?”

He did not skip a beat. No shame at all. He answered,

“Sure. I mean, I don’t normally go out with girls like you. Francesca is more my speed.”

“Girls like me? What does that mean?”

“Well, you’re… you know… a little pedestrian. Hey, that’s OK. I mean, we can have a little fun, but you know, Francesca is a runway model.”

“So, I’m not good enough for you is what you’re saying?”

“I didn’t say that. You’re great, but you have to understand, people expect me to have certain standards about women, and you know, you’re on your own level and I’m on mine.”

Penelope felt the confusing rush of anger and hurt. She tossed her linen napkin on the table and called over the waiter for the bill.

“What’s the problem?” Royce asked, as if nothing insulting had transpired.

“YOU are the problem, you pompous, self absorbed, asinine, ludicrous, self-masturbatory freakshow. Go drink Cristal with your French model and eat a bag of savory dicks.”

She left, leaving Royce looking confused and went home alone.

###

Elian Morales was obsessed with his ex-wife. He had been divorced a year and a half before his date with Penelope and he would not stop talking about his ex-wife. She had cheated on him, then taken the kids with her and left. He was sad, and bitter and lonely and angry. He took her to dinner at a TGI Fridays and munched chicken fingers while complaining about how his ex-wife had destroyed his life and his trust in women. Penelope sipped a frozen margarita that tasted like sugary soda pop and winced while a group of underpaid waiters sang a copyright-free rendition of Happy Birthday to a nine year old. 

Elian had been a blind date, another one set up by another friend from the gym she only went to sporadically. When he wasn’t talking about his ex-wife, he was lamenting that Penelope was not Mexican.

“Your last name is Garcia, so I thought you were Mexican. But… you’re not Mexican.”

“No, not Mexican. My step-dad was a mixed bag of latino.”

“Oh. But… you’re not Mexican.”

“No.”

“My family wouldn’t like that.”

“Sorry to hear it. Actually, you know what… I need to get going. It’s been nice, but I need to go.”

###

Penelope had not been on a decent date in three years. Work did not leave much time for dating and when she did have the time, it usually ended in disaster. She had begun to believe it was impossible to find a good man. As the age old adage said, the good ones were either taken already… or gay. The last date she had was with a guy that wasn’t too bad. He was boring, but at least he wasn’t a bastard. So she had gone to bed with him and that was a huge waste of time. He had grabbed at her breasts like a teenage boy and came in less than thirty seconds, grunting over her and then rolling over and snoring immediately after. 

There was a time that she considered a workplace affair, though she knew it was against the rules. There was one weekend early in her career that she was alone with Dr. Reid and he was curious, and innocent and sweet and boyish and young and fragile. None of that was her type, but he had flirted with her, blushing and fidgeting the whole time and she had found it adorable and endearing. She flirted back and assured him that if he wanted to play, that she would be discrete about it and he could trust her. He admitted he was curious about sex, that he was a virgin and that he did not know any women he could trust enough to try it out with… besides her. She had spent a weekend in a hotel in upstate New York with Spencer Reid while on a case, sneaking into his room at night. He was nervous, but he did the best a virgin could. Even though he was too inexperienced to really get her off the very first time, she had enjoyed him greatly; his sweetness and nerdy charm. She didn’t try to teach him technique. It was his first time, so she just let him go about it his own way. He fumbled a little, but he wasn’t bad. Not bad at all. Just not… good. She hadn’t expected him to be. He had plenty of time to learn ahead of him. She had pulled him on top of her, wrapped her legs around his slender hips and said,

“Go, baby… c’mon… that’s it, so good…” And it was, in its own way.

She had enjoyed the aftermath even more, when she got to lay there and trace hot trails of kisses over his baby-soft skin and watch him tremble. The good thing about twenty-four year old men was that they could go at it all night and Reid was no exception. Once he got the hang of it, his skills improved and he was ready to go again with an arsenal of new ideas. He remembered every angle that made her moan, every touch that made her shiver and every move that made her gasp, and he was able to increase the pleasure. The second time, Penelope came like rockets, and the third time and the fourth, and then she was sore because his baby face was in direct opposition to his impressively long dick. She never would have guessed it, but Dr. Reid was packing some heat. The boy learned fast.


	2. Rossi.

As cute as Reid was, he was not someone she could see herself being with on a long term basis. He would, quite honestly, drive her nuts. They both understood that it was a one weekend only thing. She was most impressed that he didn’t get clingy or pressure her to continue. She was able to help him get over some of his hang ups about sex and he was grateful. She was happy to spend some wonderful naked time with the gorgeous young man. 

But that ended and then there were a string of bad lovers, bad dates and bad ideas. She had almost given up until one day at work, she was complaining to Emily about her streak of bad luck when she realized Rossi was standing at the door, waiting for her to hand off a thumb drive of files, and he had heard everything. Even the details about the bad sex. Even the details about the good sex with Reid. She panicked for a minute, hoping he would not lambast her for the thing with Reid, but instead he smiled and gave her a little wink.

“I kinda thought the kid would be good in the sack,” he said. “Hey, if he had his first time, I’m glad it was with you. God knows, the kid needs a gentle hand and someone with some heart. And no, I’m not telling Hotch.”

She handed him the thumb drive and Emily high tailed out of the room, feigning being late for a phone call. 

“I am so sorry, Sir. I should not even be talking about this at work…”

“It’s fine. Really. I meant what I said. Reid’s a good kid and I’m glad he was with someone like you. You’ve got a good heart, Penelope and a host of other fine attributes,” he flirted.

Later that day, he passed her office and peeked in, startling her. 

“Oh, Agent Rossi, I didn’t see you there.”

“You can just call me David, you know.”

She smiled.

“David. Can I help you with something?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you might be interested in joining me for dinner tonight. That is, if you are available.”

“For… dinner?”

“Yes, I’d love to cook for you. Do you like Italian?”

Penelope gave a long look at the very pleasing form of Agent David Rossi and decided that she definitely liked Italian. Still, she wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. She decided to test the waters.

“Oh, is this one of your team morale building dinners?”

Rossi smiled, a little wicked gleam in his dark eyes.

“Penelope Garcia, I’m asking you on a date.”

“Oh. Oh!”

“We can go wherever you want. Personally, I’d love to make you my famous saltimbocca, but I’d also like to take you out and show you off. I’m thinking maybe dancing at Romana and then dinner at my place.”

“Your place…” she mumbled, the idea making her wet.

“No pressure, Penelope. I’d just like to cook for you and show you a good time. If it leads to something, that’s great. If not, then we had fun and I’ll drive you home and say goodnight. Whattaya say?”

“That sounds… really lovely. You know, I’m a wicked dancer.”

“I’ll bet you are. How about I pick you up at eight? Dancing at Romana and then a late dinner?”

“Perfect.”

“See you at eight.”

###

Romana was a music hall that was packed with couples swaying to a pretty good jazz band. The atmosphere was quirky and fun, with a touch of retro style. Just the kind of place Penelope loved. David had picked her up at exactly eight o’clock, not a minute before or after. He had shown up in a sleek leather jacket and jeans with a crisp black button up underneath and polished black Italian shoes. He had opened the car door for her and leaned in to fasten the slightly difficult seatbelt in his vintage Alfa Rameo. When his neck was close to her, she smelled his aftershave and felt a tingle in her skin. Oh, please don’t let this go terribly wrong, she thought. 

At Romana he took her coat and checked it in for her, then took her hand and led her to a reserved table where he pulled out her chair for her like a gentleman. Everything he did was with the manners and finesse of a gentleman. He asked if she wanted a martini, because Romana had the best martinis in town and she said she did want one and so they drank martinis and talked about life. Not about work. Not about themselves. Just… life. About art and music and movies and travel and the past and the future. He wanted to know what she thought of this or that artist. He wanted to know her opinion on the new Scorcese film. What did she think of the new Barbara Kingsolver book? Had she read any Umberto Eco? Where did she get her sense of style? Her dress was stylish. Her hair was beautiful. Her smile was infectious. He complimented her and it all seemed genuine. Did she want to dance? 

“Yes, I would love to, but um… this is a waltz and I have no idea how to waltz. Maybe the next song.”

“Are you sure? I’d love to teach you.”

“You can waltz?” she asked, genuinely charmed.

“This might surprise you, young lady, but I took seven years of ballroom dancing as a teenager and I’ve managed to keep up with it when I get the time.”

“Well, the next song, how about you take me for a spin?”

“Consider it done, fair lady.”

She felt strangely comfortable in her own skin with David. There was an ease and charm to everything he did. A smooth and genuine sophistication that didn’t have to be dialed up or focused. He had manicured hands. Perfectly clean, with buffed, neatly clipped nails. She didn’t know why but that was appealing to her. Most men she knew had gross hands. He danced with her to a slightly more upbeat rendition of Fly Me To The Moon sung by a retro-glam woman that sounded a little like Amy Winehouse and she laughed with joy when he spun her around and dipped her. She came up again and pressed a little closer to him. Her heart was beating a little faster and she felt the flutter all over. His hand held hers, the other at the small of her back and he smiled, looking right into her eyes as he swayed with her. She had certainly checked out David Rossi before, but she had no idea he was this sexy. He dripped genuine charm. This was looking like it might be the best date night ever. When they started to burn out, Penelope asked for the check. The waiter brought the tab and Penelope insisted on covering it. David snatched it out of her hand and clicked his teeth.

“Honey, I’m Italian. I’m old school. I don’t let beautiful women pick up the check.”

“This is the modern era, you know,” she teased.

“Put your wallet away. I got this.”

Penelope was laughing and feeling wonderful when he got her coat for her and held it as she slipped into the warm wool. He even buttoned it for her down the front, and then slipped his scarf around her neck. He leaned in for a kiss and she was all too happy to oblige. His lips were warm and soft and the tickle of his whiskers was a heart racing turn on. His hands were strong. The band of his watch glittered in the orange glow of light and she could see the wiry hair of his arms against the gold. The feeling of leather pressed against her skin when he danced with her. He tucked her into the car and asked,

“Do I have the pleasure of cooking for you now?”

A thinly veiled, ‘are you OK with coming to my house?’

“I would really like that, David. That is, if the offer still stands.”

“The pleasure of cooking for a beautiful woman? I wouldn’t skip that.”

David’s house was warm and beautiful and filled with fine things. She had been there before but never on her own, never without distractions. She sat at the kitchen bar counter and sipped the best wine she had ever tasted while he cooked with dazzling talent and ease, telling her some history about Sicilian food and culture. His father had immigrated to New York in the 1930’s and David had gone to Sicily every Summer as a child, baking in the raw Sicilian sun. The family lived on a vineyard. There were dozens of brothers, sisters, cousins and always so many kids running around, no one could count them all. She would like it, he told her. They would love her. Italians loved strong willed, intelligent women with character. She was one of those. 

He held out a wooden spoon laden with sauce and let her taste it, and it was delicious. She got a little on her fingertip and he took her hand and slipped her finger into his mouth and licked it away. It was done with ease and it made her feel that tingling wetness again. A little promise for later. They ate in the living room with the fireplace burning and Puccini playing on Vinyl. The food was delicious. The wine was exquisite. The conversation was charming and engaging. She felt light and a little bit high on joy. 

“No one has ever taught you to waltz?” he asked, that twinkle in his eye making her tingle.

“No, never.”

“Well, that must be remedied.”

He went to put on Beyond The Sea and took her hand, pulling her close. She swayed with him and dared twining her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Her heart was pounding. His hand moved over her back, finding the bare skin at the low cut of the back of her dress and caressing her. 

“Mmm, I haven’t had a night this good in years,” she said against his ear.

“Stay the night,” he said boldly.

“What do you have in mind, Agent Rossi?” she said with a grin.

“Miss Penelope, I would very much like to take you upstairs and see how many times I can make you come. Then I’d like to snuggle up with you and watch one of those sappy old movies until we fall asleep. Then I’d like to wake up and make you breakfast, maybe fuck again until we’re both exhausted and then drive you home happy and satiated and beautifully glowing.”

“Oh God, that sounds good.”

“Well then, kitten, let’s see if I can make you purr.”


	3. Penelope

Penelope sighed after a long, drawn out kiss. David’s fingertips traced across her lips and he looked her right in the eyes as his hand moved down over her neck. His bedroom smelled of fresh linen. The bed waited with seductive promise, covered in black silk and indigo blue. Penelope wondered how many women had been in that bedroom and decided it was probably a lot and that idea made her tingle. David knew what he was doing. She was lost in a reverie of dirty thoughts when his mouth moved over her neck and down to kiss the gentle swell of her breasts that bubbled over the neckline of her dress. He took his time. She massaged his shoulders as he bent to kiss the soft flesh, pushing the straps down and reaching to unzip the back. Her bra was black with tiny pink polka dots and a tiny pink bow in the center. He tugged the cups down a little and brought her breasts out over the fabric. His hands massaged her and her head lolled back. She took off her glasses and dropped them onto the bed before gasping when his lips and teeth grazed a hardening nipple. He lingered to suck there a while before turning the sweet torment to the other breast. 

He turned her around so that her back was against his chest and he caressed her breasts as he kissed a hot trail down her back. Slowly, he worked the satin of her dress down until it pooled at her ankles and she kicked it away. He knelt down to unbuckle her shoes and set them aside, taking a moment to kiss each knee before moving back up to tug down the lace of her panties. She took a deep breath and shivered. 

“Lay back on the bed, kitten,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “I want to see if you taste as sweet as you look.”

She slid up the bed and laid back, and David kissed her knees again, then parted her legs and slid his hands up her thighs. She felt wickedly exposed and covered her face with her hands. He gently took her hands and moved them aside.

“Why are you shy? Kitten, you look so sweet…”

And his head vanished between her legs and she gasped. His fingertips parted the nether-lips and she felt him rub little torturous circles against her clit until the little nub hardened and swelled to a hot, pulsing core. Then the heat and liquid fire of his mouth on her, tongue circling around the swollen flesh and drawing it out. He knew how to do it. He was a goddamned expert, she thought right before pleasure consumed her in a white flash of light and she couldn’t think about anything at all anymore. He flickered his tongue against it and licked and sucked until she was so wet that she felt like she was melting into warm fire. A steady, rolling orgasm pulsed through her in waves and he didn’t stop until it subsided and she started to come down from the high. David rose up and she blushed bright pink when she saw that his lips were wet with… her. 

“Well, that took the edge off, didn’t it? Now we can really get down to business.”

With a swift gesture, he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed and kissed her ankles, putting her legs up in the air. He reached into a little box by the bed and took out a condom. He unfastened his jeans and pulled out an impressively long and thick cock, uncut and raging hard. He put her legs up on his shoulders and she licked her lips and said,

“I don’t get to reciprocate?”

“Not this time, kitten. Save it for later.”

He folded her and pushed inside her with her ankles resting on the leather coat at his shoulders. Somehow, his being almost fully dressed and her nakedness was a turn on for her. She reached to feel the crisp button down shirt and the buttery black leather, the denim of his jeans and the hot naked flesh of his cock as he plunged into her. He worked her feverishly hard, switching up angles until he found the stroke that made her gasp ‘oooh’ and buck against him.

“That’s my girl… you want it harder?”

“Oooh, yes please…”

He obliged and she lost all control of herself as he thrust into her fast and hard until she came in a mind-blowing rush of an orgasm. She cried out and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it wasn’t pretty, but she didn’t care. It felt so damned good. Only when she started to come down from it did he start thrusting again, this time going for his own pleasure. She reached to pull him down over her and kiss him hotly on the mouth, pumping her hips against him until she felt him tremble and then tense with a wild groan. He bit at her lip and dipped down to taste a nipple again before he smiled and brushed her sweat damp hair out of her face.

“That was… amazing,” she said quite honestly.

“As good as our young Dr. Reid?” he teased.

“Hmm, the boy did have his own style. A fast learner, that one.”

“Oh? Did he make you come like that?”

“As a matter of fact, he did and he kept going like the energizer bunny.”

“Well, I have a lot of catching up to do then. Did you have fun, kitten?”

“Mmmm, yes I did, Agent Rossi.”

“David.”

“Ah, no. Let me keep this banging my boss fantasy.”

“Well, technically Hotch is your boss.”

“True, but this is close.” She waited until he cleaned up in the bathroom and then she pulled him into her arms and crushed her breasts against him. “This is so good. I want to do more of this.”

“We can do whatever you want, kitten.”

“Kitten. Hmmmm, I like that. Meow.”

“We’re not done yet. I have plans for you.”

Penelope wiggled against David’s chest and felt him start to grow hard again.

“I thought only young guys could do that, go at it for a double shot.”

“Oh? Did Reid manage to hit you up twice in a row?”

“Sugar, Reid is a little stud muffin. But you… you I like even better. Come here and let me prove it to you.”

Penelope lost herself again and didn’t think of anything but flesh against flesh the rest of the night.


End file.
